Coming back to you
by Lalinka
Summary: Sam and Dean's relationship hit the rock bottom, and there seems to be no way for them to get better. But Dean is still willing to try. Is he gonna fix them, or is their love ruined beyond repair? Warning: explicit Wincest, small lime


A slam of the door.

Heavy steps on the stairs and then the roar of the Impala's engine coming to life.

_Sure, leave and pretend this never happened. It's the only thing, you know, how to do right! _Sam's voice still ringing in Dean's ears, even as he parked the Impala near the bar that he visited every night, and walked in.

The bartender nodded at him, and poured him a shot of whiskey, before Dean even sat down. They didn't share a word. Nobody tried to strike a conversation with him anymore; they knew that he wasn't interested.

How did this happen to them? Sam had been, still was, the best thing that had ever happened to him. When did it all start to go wrong?

Dean still remembered how they started. In a traditional Winchester way – a supernatural creature had to dig up and throw the truth in their faces. Then there was a lot of denial, mainly on Dean's part. And then Sam snapped, pushed Dean beyond limits, and then suddenly it was all or nothing and they chose all.

And then, they were perfect. Sure, awkward a bit at first, unsure and a little paranoid, but perfect. It was great until...

Until when? Dean didn't even remember, when or why did they start the fighting and the avoiding. It could have been one of Sam's snarky comments just as well, as some of Dean's stupid habits. But this is what they'd come to – fighting over every single stupid little thing possible. Sometimes the fight resulted into fists, sometimes into one of them leaving the room they were currently sharing.

The funniest, or maybe the most tragic thing about this was, that they weren't even on a hunt. They decided to take a break in a motel, by a lake, because they thought it might do them some good. At least that was Dean's intention, he couldn't read his brother at all, anymore.

When he'd left their room, he'd been furious. He didn't even know, what they were fighting about, he just knew how good his brother was in pushing all his buttons. He had to come down here, cool off, drink it away.

He stood up, knocked in one more shot, left a couple of bills on the bar and walked out again. He breathed in deep the cold night's air and walked towards his car. He knew he shouldn't be driving after digesting alcohol, but he was going to anyway. Sam would have been so angry. Hell, he probably _was going to be_, once Dean returned to their motel room.

It had occurred to Dean, that if he just took off and _didn't _come back, he'd be free of Sam's constant mood changes, he wouldn't have to brood over a strong drink every night, he might even breathe a little easier. But he would be losing Sam and that was the one thing Dean feared the most. This was the point, where most normal relationships break up, but they were anything but normal.

The truth was that even if every night ended in a huge fight, and they both ended up screaming hurtful things, neither of them really meant, Dean would always come back to Sam. Because he loved him. Pathetic, huh? Well, Dean stopped caring. He decided to hold on to the bits and pieces he and his brother had still left, before Sam decided he'd had enough for good. And Dean had the nagging feeling, that that time was nearing really fast.

He took a steadying breath and pushed the door open. Sam was on his feet almost immediately.

"Wow, you're home early today," Sam said sarcastically.

Dean just rolled his eyes.

"I can go again, if you want," he spat back, even though he had no intention to fight again. Sam just had that influence over him. Every little comment he made, seemed to wind Dean up.

He brushed past Sam to his bed. Yeah, that's right, _his_ bed. Somewhere along the line, they even stopped sharing a king's bed and went back to booking rooms with two queens. But before he even had the chance to shrug off his jacket, he felt Sam's hand grab his arm roughly and spinning him around.

"Did you drive drunk?" Sam hissed.

"Jesus, Sam, I only had like four drinks. I'm nowhere near drunk. Leave me alone," he wriggled his arm free. All he wanted was a hot shower and to lie down in his bed to sleep this off.

"How could you be so damn stupid, Dean?" Sam yelled at him. "What if you killed somebody? What if something happened to _you_?"

Dean finally got rid of his jacket and grabbed a towel.

"Like you even care," he scoffed and turned around, determined to ignore Sam.

The punch caught him completely off guard.

It didn't cause any damage, short of turning Dean's head to one side, and it wouldn't have been hard to dodge either, had Dean expected it. He pushed Sam, so that the younger man stumbled backwards a few steps.

"What the fuck, Sam?"

Behind all the pure anger, rolling off Sam, there was shock behind his hazel eyes. Or it could have been hatred. Dean didn't know anymore.

"Well? Not gonna explain, what gave you the fucking right to hit me?" Dean sneered, his desire to shower completely forgotten, as he walked to Sam, only to push him again.

This time, Sam expected it, though, and he grabbed Dean's arms, turned them around and ran Dean into the wall, using his full weight. Dean's head contacted with the wall, and he saw stars for a few moments.

When his vision cleared again, Sam was still in his face, his nostrils flaring, and something inside Dean snapped.

He was pretty sure, that he didn't mean for this to happen at first. Maybe he wanted to start beating Sam for real, maybe he wanted to run and hide into the bathroom, he wasn't certain. But what he _actually _did was push Sam backwards, until he fell on his bed, and then start ripping off and throwing away his clothes.

If he was in the state to be able to rationalize things, Dean would have blamed this on the build up tension between them, on all the anger and on the fact, that they hadn't had sex for over a week.

But Dean wasn't trying to rationalize anything; he just helped Sam get him out of his clothes, once Sam was naked, and then pushed him down on his back, kneeling between his legs. He bent down to the crook of Sam's neck, just inhaling the smell of _Sam_. A wave of sentimentality washed over him. He really missed being happy with his brother.

But Sam pushed him off and sat up to face him. Always fighting him, even now. Dean tugged hard at his long hair, until Sam was forced to bare his neck with a painful hiss, and then he sank his teeth deep inside Sam's flesh.

He heard Sam's gasp and tried to push him down again. But Sam refused to give in, so he ended up being pressed against the headboard of the bed with Dean pinning him there with his body.

"I won't go down for you," Sam said quietly.

"I don't care," Dean retorted. "Turn around."

Okay, that might have been a little too harsh. Dean _did_ care. He cared a lot. Sam bit his bottom lip, but obeyed Dean's command, and that raised a red flag in Dean's brain. He leaned his chin against Sam's shoulder from behind and whispered into his ear.

"We don't have to do this. You can walk away, if you want." He really hoped he didn't sound angry or hostile anymore.

Sam just shook his head, but Dean saw his hands tremble a little. It might have been with the leftover anger, or anticipation, but Dean still sneaked his arms around him and caught his hands to calm Sam down a little.

But Sam shook them off his quickly.

"Just get this over with," he hissed and it worked just fine to piss Dean off all over again. He quickly searched his duffel for a lube, poured some on his fingers and pushed one lube-coated digit into his brother's tight hole.

Sam, still sitting up, stiffened for a moment, but then pushed back on the finger to get it as deep as he could. Dean pulled out, and pushed back in with two fingers this time. Sam's lips parted in a breathless moan. Dean crooked his fingers a little and searched for the spot inside Sam, that made him writhe and cry in pleasure. When he finally found it, he used it mercilessly to reduce Sam to a moaning wreck, supporting his weight, when Sam wasn't able to keep himself upright anymore.

He wasn't trying to be rough, not at all. This was an angry, full of raging feelings kind of sex, and he knew it very well, but he wanted Sam to enjoy it. It seemed to be the only positive feeling, he'd been able to stir inside his brother lately. But all the fury just didn't allow him to take his time.

He sucked and nibbled on Sam's neck, as he quickly stretched him open, breathing in the unique smell of his little brother. God knew when he'd be able to do that again.

When he thought Sam was ready, he pulled his fingers out of his ass. Sam whimpered with the loss. Dean lubed his fully erect cock, pushed Sam a little forward and his hips a bit back to have better access and pushed himself in.

Sam groaned deep in his chest, when Dean slammed inside him with one slide.

"Still think, I can't do anything right?" Dean growled in his brother's ear, as he slammed into him relentlessly, each thrust a little deeper, than the one before. "Can't really hear you complaining."

"Dean Winchester, ladies –aargh – and gentlemen," Sam spat out between the thrusts and his own moans. "Always the..._God_...arrogant...fucking...bastard."

Dean pinched Sam's nipple. Hard. Sam cried out in pain, and let his defences a little down, so that Dean finally could put a hand on his neck and push him down, fucking him through the mattress. He noticed Sam's hand sneak under his body to bring himself over the edge, and he let him.

As Sam reached his orgasm, his cries muffled by the pillow his head was buried in, he clenched around Dean tightly, and the older man came inside his brother, screaming.

He pulled out, panting and tried to get his brain to function again. Sam rolled on his back slowly, his chest heaving as he tried to get his breathing under control.

Maybe it was because Dean wasn't all back to his right mind yet, maybe it was the force of habit, but he bent down, splaying his fingers over Sam's cheek gently and he was just this close from kissing him, when he remembered, that this wasn't probably the right time. Sam most likely didn't want this, anyway.

Dean bore his eyes into the hazel depths of Sam's and found his brother looking at him with distant, indifferent, almost cold gaze. His eyes grew a little sadder, and suddenly Dean was left with a feeling, as though he'd just raped his little brother.

A wave of cold horror washed over him, Sam's _Just get this over with _ringing in his ears. What if that was exactly, what'd just happened? What if Sam didn't want to do this anymore? Maybe he stuck around, because he didn't want to prove Dean's point of him always leaving, as Dean liked to yell into his face so often. Or maybe he just didn't want to lose his brother, who knew.

He quickly got off the bed. Sam sat upright, and for a moment it seemed as though was going to say something, but then he just bit his bottom lip and looked away. Dean disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower, trying to clean himself off, because he felt so incredibly dirty.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Sam was already asleep. So Dean lay down on his own bed too, facing away from Sam, but sleep wasn't coming for Dean. Whenever he tried to close his eyes, he saw the haunted look in his brother's eyes, and he had to shake his head to get rid of the image. His hands were shaking and his breaths were shallow and quick.

Sam didn't love him anymore.

Dean's chest ached so badly, that he might as well have been dying of heart attack. It wouldn't have made a difference.

He tried to sort his thoughts and figure out, what he should do next, how to make this easier on Sam, but with all the pain and regret, it was nearly impossible.

"Dean?" the whisper from the other bed made Dean's brain freeze and for a few heartbeats, he was sure, he wasn't even breathing. "You asleep?" Sam asked again, and Dean panicked. He wasn't ready to deal with this just yet, so he shut his eyes and forced his breath to even out.

Sam's mattress squeaked, and the taller man walked around his bed to sit on the floor by Dean's, his back leaning against it.

"Hey, big brother," he whispered softly. Dean didn't show any sign of hearing him, but he was almost certain his cover had been blown. "Don't punch me, but you really do look cute, when you're sleeping," Sam chuckled and shifted a bit to get more comfortable.

_What? _Dean thought perplexed.

"You know, when you saved that little girl's balloon yesterday, I couldn't help but think, that you'd make an amazing dad. Would you want that? Be a dad, I mean," Sam continued, oblivious to the fact, that his one-man audience wasn't as asleep as he thought. "Wouldn't that be cool? I think I'd want a daughter, if I could choose..."

Sam rambled on and Dean, too shocked to give away, that he was awake, listened. He didn't miss the quiet sniffles, or the times Sam's voice broke a little. He was crying. His little brother was telling stories of everyday, laughing and making jokes, like you would with your boyfriend or brother, but meanwhile it was breaking his heart, because his boyfriend would never hear it; his brother never took the time to listen. Dean felt like such an asshole.

"You remember the old lady from the grocery store I told you about?" Sam asked and Dean almost choked.

He definitely _didn't_ remember a conversation about any old lady, mainly because he and Sam simply didn't talk anymore. That could mean only one thing; Sam did this whole 'talking to you, while you're sleeping' thing more often. Because it was the only time, he could tell Dean anything, without being afraid, that it might backfire on him.

"I'm so sorry, Dean, for all the things I've told you. I don't even mean them! I don't know how you do it, but whenever we talk, it makes me angry. It makes me angry, that I don't know how to make you happy, anymore. We used to read each other's minds. Where did that time go?"

Sam grew quiet for a moment, when the crying got the better of him. Dean was torn between hating himself for making his brother, the one person he loved the most in this world, this unhappy and wanting to hug Sam tightly and never let him go. He was too afraid, that letting Sam know, that he was awake, would just ruin the moment. Sam would probably be upset with him, and things would be only worse than before.

"I shouldn't have punched you, when you came back today, I'm so sorry," Sam continued, eventually. "I just...whenever you go out, I'm scared that maybe, maybe you'll meet someone and...and you just won't come back," Sam sobbed. "And then you said, that I didn't care and I just-"Another pause for tears. "And you haven't touched me for a _week, _Dean, so even if it was meant to hurt, I didn't want to stop."

It was all Dean could do not to cry as well.

"And then...you said _turn around_, like you didn't even want to see my face anymore, and it felt so much like you _hated_ me. You don't even kiss me anymore. And I'm so scared to try to make the first move, because what if you'll reject me? What if you really do hate me? But that's okay, Dean. Because you loved me once. And maybe, if I hold on long enough, you will love me again."

Sam took a steadying breath and got up. Dean felt a hand softly caressing his hair and then a gentle press of lips against his forehead. He gasped and leaned to the touch, but Sam probably took it as a stirring from someone, who's asleep and whispered.

"I love you, Dean. Good night," and with that, he walked back to his bed.

Dean finally opened his eyes and stared at a point on the wall.

None of this made sense, even though it was the last piece of the puzzle. Dean had been so busy feeling sorry for himself, wondering why Sam didn't love him anymore, escaping to bars and fighting, that he didn't realize, what it was doing to Sam, and that maybe his little brother felt the same way about this, as he did. If he could go back in time, he'd punch his past self to the face.

It was so typically Winchester of them, to just fight, drink and yell at each other, while it was killing them on the inside. Dean had to stop this. He had to do something, if not for them, then at least for Sam's benefit. He was never okay with seeing his brother suffer.

But how did you just change the routine you'd fallen into, especially if you were Dean Winchester, and you didn't do heart-to-hearts and chick-flick moments. His hand touched the spot that was still tingling from the contact with Sam's lips on its own accord. Dean closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Something had to give.

The next morning, when Dean woke up, Sam was already up and working on breakfast by the stove.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Dean asked, as he rubbed the sleep off his eyes.

"So that you could yell at me for waking you up? No, thanks," Sam retorted without even bothering to turn around.

Dean had to bite hard on his bottom lip to prevent some snarky comment to slip out of his mouth. Baby steps, he reminded himself. He remembered the way Sam was all broken last night, and let all the anger blow out with a deep exhale. He was going to be a man about this, be the older brother and set this right.

"What are you cooking?" he asked, getting up from the bed.

"Just scrambling eggs," Sam shrugged.

"With bacon?" Dean asked hopefully. "That is, if you're making some for me, as well. It's okay if you don't," he added quickly, when he saw a muscle in Sam's jaw twitch, as he opened his mouth to answer.

"Of course, it's for you too. I'm not that selfish," Sam mumbled.

Dean sneaked upon him, and whispered into his ear.

"Smells nice."

Sam jumped and knocked over a mug with coffee that shattered on the floor, splashing the coffee over both men's feet.

"Shit," Sam cursed and crouched to collect the pieces of ceramic. He hissed painfully, as he cut his hand with a sharp edge of one of the shards.

Dean crouched as well, and he noticed the way Sam's fists clenched and his shoulders tensed, expecting a fight. He even opened his mouth at the first sound of Dean's voice.

"You okay?" Dean asked, taking the wounded hand in his.

Sam's mouth stayed opened, as he blinked at him, completely thrown off. Dean felt a twinge of sadness, that his brother was this surprised by his concern.

"Go take care of that, I'll clean this up," he said softly.

"Okay," Sam said numbly and got up. "I, uh, thanks," he said, before retreating to the bathroom.

Dean picked up the leftovers of the mug, threw them away, and wiped the floor with some rag he found under the sink. Then he quickly tried to save, what could be saved from the eggs, that they'd both forgotten about.

"How's the hand?" he asked Sam, when he returned from the bathroom with bandaged thumb.

"Good, was just a scratch," Sam shrugged. Then he crinkled his nose. "What's the smell?"

"Uh, sorry," Dean scratched the back of his head nervously. "I kinda forgot about the eggs. But there's still enough for you. I'll do the dishes."

"No, wait," Sam said quickly, and then froze, as though he wasn't sure what to say next. "I mean, there's bacon," he shifted his weight uncertainly. "That's more your thing. I'll have cereal, no big deal."

"As you wish," Dean shrugged. "But I'm still doing the dishes."

"Where did the desire to become the wife come from?" Sam chuckled, as he poured milk to his bowl and sat down.

"Sorry to try to let your injury heal properly," Dean huffed.

"Injury? Dude, don't be stupid-," Sam's smile faltered immediately. "No offense, I didn't mean-"

"None taken," Dean stopped him with a raised hand.

"No?" Sam blinked at him. He obviously had trouble believing this could be even happening.

"No," Dean locked his eyes with Sam's.

They ate their breakfast in silence.

"Um, I thought I could go for a jog," Sam said after a few hours. Dean was honestly glad for the distraction, because the walking on eggshells around Sam had been exhausting. "You mind?"

"Nah, have fun," Dean waved him off and turned up the TV.

Sam had picked up on his game of playing the 'happy couple', but he'd been really skittish, and Dean had only that many ways to comfort him, without it actually turning into a touchy-feely shit. They still said the wrong things sometimes, and it still made Dean angry. So if Sam had decided to put the pent up energy into jogging, Dean could do some working out.

He was finished with his last push-ups about the same time, when Sam returned home. When Dean offered Sam to take the first shower, the younger man just shook his head. They took their turns, and now they were sitting on the couch, watching TV.

Dean was too aware of Sam to focus, though, and so was Sam, judging by the way his eyes kept darting toward Dean, when he thought his brother wasn't looking.

It was quiet. The silence was almost deafening, reminding Dean that they were so far gone, that when they weren't yelling, they didn't have anything to say to each other.

When they went to sleep, Dean allowed himself a moment of weakness, and prayed that they would make it through. He wanted to wait to see, if Sam was going to talk to him again, but he fell asleep too soon.

The next day was just a quiet, as the one before, and Dean could see, how it was driving Sam crazy. He worked on laptop, went jogging, and even started to clean the room. He was obviously desperate, but Dean had no idea, how to help him. He tried to stay out of his way as much as possible, without actually leaving the room, but Sam's constant skimming around was getting on his nerves. Dean was content with just sitting on the couch, watching TV, and cleaning guns, or doing something useful.

The third day, there was just too much silence, too much things unsaid, and the energy in the room was almost cracking with the tension. Something was bound to happen, and sure enough, it did.

"Whatcha doin', Sam?" Dean asked casually, deciding that he no longer could stand the stillness.

"Nothing much," Sam shrugged, without so much as glancing up from his laptop screen.

"Well, that's quite a long time to spend on nothing," Dean smirked. "Lemme see," he leaned over his brother's shoulder.

"Jesus, mind your own business," Sam snapped the laptop closed and pushed Dean away.

"What, can't even ask my brother what's he up to now?" Dean growled.

"I don't have to explain myself to you!" Sam yelled and Dean knew that this was it. The silence broke.

"Fine," Dean snapped. "I'm sorry I cared. Won't make that mistake again," he put on his boots and grabbed his jacket, before he even realized what he was doing.

"D-Dean," the way Sam spoke his name made him turn around.

Gone were the anger and the rage. Sam was looking at him with huge, scared eyes now. _Why are we fighting again? I'm sorry. Was that my last chance? Did I fuck it up beyond repair this time? _All of these questions swimming in the pools of hazel and tears, that only barely didn't fall out.

"You going to the bar again?" Sam asked quietly, but _Are we back to where we were three days ago? _is what he meant.

"No," Dean sighed, more than a little ashamed of himself, because that was exactly, what he was about to do. "I thought I'd take a walk down to the lake. Wanna join?"

Sam blinked his tears away and nodded.

They were quiet again, as they walked down the path. Dean was wrecking his brain over something clever to say, but Sam beat him down to it.

"I was looking for your birthday present," he said, when they finally reached the lake, his eyes trained on the shore on the other side.

The place was wonderful, the deep orange and red light, as the sun was setting down, was reflected in the lake. The surface of the water was motionless, because the area was well protected by the tall trees all around. They weren't the only ones there. The lake was surrounded by couples, or parents with children. Dean was just about to comment on the romance leaking out of every spore of this place, when Sam took his voice away with his out-of-the-blue statement.

"What?" he asked, looking at his brother's back.

"On the laptop, earlier. I was looking for your birthday present, that's why I didn't want you to see."

"You know, that it's August, right?" Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, I just wanted it to be special. With all the fighting lately, I just...I thought...I don't know," he admitted, and he sounded almost defeated.

Some big brother's instinct in Dean took over, and he wrapped his arms around Sam from behind, to reassure him. Sam leaned back against him ever so slightly and let out a shaky breath.

"This place is nice, right?" Dean whispered into Sam's ear.

"Perfect," Sam nodded and then turned around in Dean's arms. "Dean, I'm sorry. I don't know why I say half the shit I do. And I don't know why you say yours. It's just nearly impossible for us to talk, and I hate it. I'd never thought I'd miss your jokes, but I do. And I-" he was stopped by Dean's forefinger against his lips.

"I really want to kiss you," Dean looked up into beautiful hazel eyes. "Can I?"

"Yes," Sam breathed out.

Dean more felt than heard his answer, but it was consent nonetheless. He pressed his lips against Sam's gently and closed his eyes, re-remembering the softness that he'd almost forgotten. It had really been too long, since they kissed like this.

Sam let out a small gasp and Dean used the way his lips parted to deepen the kiss. It was Sam's tongue that plunged into his mouth first, though, exploring and learning the taste and feel of his brother's mouth again. Dean let him, moaning softly into the kiss.

"We're gonna be okay," he whispered, when he finally pulled away, and he truly meant it.

When Sam opened his eyes, there was a light in them, that he'd been missing all this time.

"Let's go back," he smiled down at Dean.

Dean grinned and untangled himself from Sam, but didn't let go of him completely. They held hands all the way back, even though Dean would have to watch some really manly movies later to make up for the girly-ness of that.

The walk back was just as silent, as the walk there, yet it was so much different. The cracking energy between them was back, it was in every heated look they shot at each other, but there was nothing angry about it, nothing uncomfortable about the silence. The wind around them shifted, Dean could almost smell the change. It felt as though something really heavy had been lifted off his shoulders.

The door behind them closed, and Dean spun around to press against Sam, but then he stopped, unsure. It had been going great so far, but maybe pushing it would only set them back. He saw Sam eyeing him, and then his face broke into a huge smile. His dimples were showing, eyes shining and god, could his brother be any more gorgeous.

He took a small step towards Sam, and the taller man mirrored his movements. Their lips met halfway, and then all Dean's resolve to go slow just flew out of the window.

He sank down to his knees and undid the belt on Sam's pants quickly.

"Dean, you don't really have to-," Sam tried to stop him, but the deep growl in his chest, when Dean pushed his jeans down, betrayed him.

"I want to," Dean looked up at him. "Please."

Sam threw his head back, and let Dean work his briefs down, as well. Dean marvelled the hard and dark red fresh for a few heartbeats, and then he closed his lips around it, sucking on the crown, like a man on a mission.

Sam's hands threaded in Dean's hair, but he wasn't urging Dean to go faster or deeper, he was just holding himself upright, because his knees were giving up. Dean smirked inwardly. He liked to be able to affect Sam this much.

He took his brother in deeper, willing his throat to relax, until he felt the tip bump against the back of his throat. He breathed deeply through the nose, and the strong muck of his little brother filled his head, and made him forget about any discomfort.

He started bobbing his head back and forth; caressing the thick shaft with his tongue, and feeling himself harden at the sounds that were falling from his brother's mouth. They weren't even coherent words.

"Dean..." Sam moaned, and spilled his cum down Dean's throat, who obediently swallowed every drop.

When Dean got up, dragging Sam's jeans with him, but not bothering to zip them, Sam was still too dazed to do anything. Dean led him gently toward his bed, supporting at least half of his weight.

"You okay there, little brother?" he chuckled, when Sam dropped heavily on the mattress.

"Awesome," Sam grinned at him with dilated pupils.

Dean bent down to slant his mouth over Sam's and the younger man hummed happily into the kiss. He wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, insistently not letting go, even when Dean tried to pull away.

He scooted up the bed, dragging Dean with him. He pulled Dean's shirt out of his jeans, and snuck his hands under it to roam over Dean's abs. Dean felt his muscles clench under the gentle touches. This was so much different from the last night they came together. Dean still regretted that ever happened.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," he murmured against the skin on Sam's neck that he'd been mouthing. "You'll forget it ever felt bad."

"Never," Sam countered, as he pushed Dean's shirt off his shoulders. "You never felt bad." And then he dragged Dean's head down to kiss him again.

They took turns in undressing and worshipping each other's body. At first, Dean pushed Sam's jeans all the way down to his ankles, so that Sam could kick them off, and then he licked and sucked on the sensitive skin just below Sam's navel, as he was caressing his thighs. Then Sam licked his way up Dean's chest, and sucked a bruise on Dean's neck. Meanwhile his hands were fumbling blindly with his brother's jeans, but he batted Dean's hands away, when the other tried to help him. After a while, they were down to boxers, hips grinding against each other, and their bodies sliding together smoothly, glistening with sweat.

"Sam," Dean whispered hoarsely against his brother's mouth, when the said groped his ass and squeezed it.

"Right here, brother," Sam dragged his lips along Dean's jaw, until he reached his ear. "Right here with you."

"I like the sound of that," Dean grinned and pushed Sam's briefs down. Sam lifted his hips to help him get rid of them, and then got rid of Dean's as well.

Dean grind his hips down to Sam's, watching his brother's eyes roll back and loving the sounds that he was drawing out of him. He was caught up in the moment, just staring, until Sam cocked his head and looked at him curiously.

"What?"

"I love you," Dean said honestly, a warmth growing in his chest, as a blush spread over Sam's face.

"I love you, too," he said and Dean leaned down to kiss his mouth gently, but thoroughly.

When he straightened up, he reached into the nightstand for lube and coated his fingers with it, as Sam wrapped his long legs around Dean's waist.

Sam closed his eyes and gasped, as Dean pushed one lube-coated finger to his entrance.

"Okay?" Dean asked uncertainly. The first plan was to go slow, after all.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "More."

So Dean added another finger and slowly fucked Sam, while stretching him open. He occasionally brushed against the spot, which made Sam writhe in pleasure uncontrollably.

With the third finger, Sam actually hissed, so Dean stilled his movements, and waited for Sam to adjust to the feeling. Sam moved his hips against Dean's hand, when he felt ready.

"Please, Dean," Sam begged, when Dean brushed his prostate again. "I'm ready, I need you, please, big brother, please."

Dean braced his hands on both sides of Sam's face and slowly pushed in. He slanted his mouth over Sam's to savour and swallow down every little moan or gasp Sam could give him.

They parted for breath, when Dean was all the way in.

"This feels so...," Sam's breath hitched in his chest. "I missed this. So much."

"Me too," Dean kissed to corner of his mouth. "You have no idea."

Dean started sliding in and out of Sam, slowly, angling his thrusts, sucking and licking at Sam's nipples. He didn't even realize he was speeding up, when Sam put his hands on his shoulders.

"Fuck, slow down," he gritted out.

Dean's eyes widened. He hadn't realized he'd been doing something wrong.

"God, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"No," Sam stopped him with a smile that seemed a bit strained. "It's just," Sam averted his eyes. "I don't want to come just yet," he mumbled, blushing heavily.

"I didn't even touch you," Dean chuckled, but bent down to kiss Sam, to save him from dying of embarrassment.

"Yeah. And I want you to. Touch me, I mean," Sam said with a voice laced with pleasure.

Dean's cock inside of Sam twitched so violently, that Sam must have felt it.

Dean started to move inside Sam again, wrapping his fingers around Sam's cock in the process.

"I just bet you do. And I want you to come with me. Do you think we can do that? Come together? Just like when we were doing this for the first time?"

Something shone in Sam's eyes and Dean continued, pumping Sam's cock in the rhythm of the thrusting of his hips.

"Do you still remember our first time? Because I do. I even jack myself to the memory sometimes. I must have given you the worst blowjob of your life," Dean chuckled. Sam bit down on his bottom lip and his eyes shone even more.

Dean could feel the heat coiling deep inside his belly, so he focused on bringing Sam to the peak of the pleasure with him.

"You ready to come for me, little brother?"

Sam's answer was a broken cry, as he shot his load all over his belly and Dean's hand. Dean came almost immediately after him, growling "I love you, Sammy," into his brother's ear.

Dean's vision went red, then white, and then black. When he regained his composure again, he felt Sam's body still shake with the aftershocks. At least, that was what he'd thought, until he felt the dampness on his cheek, and looked up to see Sam crying openly.

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry, did I hurt you?" Dean panicked.

Sam wrapped his arms around his neck tightly and shook his head, but kept on sobbing into Dean's shoulder.

Hesitantly, Dean put his arms on Sam's back.

"Shh, I've got you, little brother. I'm right here, don't worry."

"Say it again," Sam whispered finally.

"I've got you?"

"No, before."

"I love you," Dean pressed a kiss into Sam's hair.

"Not that, the other part."

Dean wrinkled his forehead, trying to remember exactly what he'd said. It was right before he collapsed, so it wasn't all that easy.

"Sammy?" he asked eventually, because his sexed out brain couldn't come up with anything else.

"God," Sam nodded and pulled away, to hold Dean's face in his hands. "I was afraid I'd never hear it from you again. Never thought I'd miss the fucking nickname so much," he laughed through the tears.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," Dean sighed. "I'm not sure what happened, but I never meant to make you feel like you were losing me. You'll never lose me, not until you'll want to. And maybe not even then," he smiled.

Sam shook his head.

"Don't be sorry, it was as much my fault as yours. I don't know why it had to go so wrong, but I love you even more for changing it. I've always admired your strength," he smiled fondly at his brother.

Dean looked away, not blushing only by the sheer power of will. He pulled out of Sam and settled on the bed next to him.

"I mean it," Sam made him look back at him again. "But tell me, why? No one changes like that overnight, least of all the Winchesters. Tell me, what made you do it? Did you cheat or something? Are you-," he sat up and looked into Dean's eyes intensely. "You're not sick, right? You're okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry. Nothing bad happened, I swear," he caressed Sam's hair and forehead, trying to clear the worry from his face. "But you're right, there's a reason," he took a deep breath. "I heard you that night. When you came to talk to me, because you thought I was asleep."

He felt Sam's body tense, so he quickly added.

"Did you do that often? Because, I swear, I never knew. Until then. And I'm sorry I didn't stop you, but I'm glad, I heard it. You know, before that, I was convinced, that you were done, that you didn't want me anymore, and I was so caught up in the self-pity, that I never saw, what it was doing to you. I'm so sorry, Sammy."

Sam looked perplexed, as he blinked up at the older Winchester.

"Stop saying you're sorry. I'm sorry too. I love you, and I'm really glad we worked this out. Doesn't matter that you heard one of my sappy stories. What matters is here and now," he pressed a kiss against Dean's mouth and plopped back down. He twined their limbs, and rested his head against Dean's chest.

"We should really go back to getting one King instead of two Queens."

"Yeah," Dean chuckled, as he made himself as comfortable, as he could, with his brother all around him. "King size bed it is."

They were silent for a moment, and Dean felt his eyelids grow heavy, when he heard Sam's whisper.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"This is real, right? I'm not going to wake up tomorrow, and find out it was just a dream, am I? Cause God knows, I've had enough of those."

Dean couldn't prevent himself from feeling a little more guilty.

"You _are _gonna wake up," he whispered into Sam's hair. "And I'll still be here. Every morning, from now on," he pressed a kiss against Sam's temple.

"Good," Sam murmured sleepily. "Good night. I love you."

"Me too, Sammy. Night."

Dean fell asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

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